33^: 

1888 



** Under the (^kdar" 



AND OIMKRS. 



AU(;( SI A ( ilSroN WINIHKOP. 



Cl.AKKK et CARKUTH, 

340 & 344 Washington St. 

1888. 



», .1/ 



"Under the Cedar 




n 



AND OTHERS. 



BY 



AUGUSTA CLINTON WINTHROP. 



DOSTCN : 

CLARKE & CARRUTH, 

340 & 344 Washington St. 

1888. 



,W/7 UL5 



^0 5-S\^4 



LOVrSGLY DEZICATZD 

TO I 

i 
Louisz CH.\M ii: 17 : X i 

i 



INDEX. 

Closeneiss 9 

To J. G. WnrrriER ii 

Tantalus 13 

July in the Isle of Wight 15 

The Wind 17 

A Maiden's Question 18 

All Souls' Day 20 

"Outside" 22 

His Message across the Sea 24 

'Amor Meus' 26 

"Protoplasm" 28 

"Lighten Our Darkness" ....... 32 

Parted 34 

The Universal Question ;^6 

A Village May Day Song, a. d. 1340 . . . 38 

An Echo from Borneo 41 

"The Pilgrim of Love" 42 

A Word with the Children 44 

A Child's Search 48 

"That Sea" 51 

The Dead Poet 53 

^'His Temple shall be among Men" . . . 54 



The First Laurel Leaf 55 

"My Ship" 56 

Soul to its Creator 58 

Mid Ocean 59 

'Death'? 61 

"Vita est lux Hominum" 63 

Two Women • .... 64 

"Quae sub his figuris vere Latitas" ... 66 

The Beggar's Petition 6S 

QUEENSTOWN HaRBOUR 71 

A Palm Sunday Dream 73. 

"Loves' Lures or Under the Cedar'' . . 76 



INTRODUCTION. 

These scraps of rhyme together brought 
From fly-leaves, letters, scribbled o'er, 

In part from other tongues were caught 
Yet most were planted long before, — 

Germs quickened by a constant rain 
From the twin wells of joy and pain. 

Not sorted, labelled, each in place, 
Or sharpened into weapons keen, 

As when a wit with wits would race ; 

Small food for " minds " may here be seen ! 

For you my " scribbles," gentle wight. 
Who, like their writer, cannot write ! 



CLOSENESS. 

^ Ceux que nous avons aimes et qtie nous avous perdus ne sent 
plus ou ils etaient, mais Us sont partout et toujours ou nous 
sommes" 

They are not absent from our life, our being, 

Whom thus you style, — " departed — gone away " — 

Dead ? Yes, to sight ! but that thin veil concealing 
Their lives from ours is pushed aside each day. 

No strangers now, though we may not have known them, 
And e'en their names have never reached our ear 1 

If on these gravestones we one day are shown them, 
Straightway are they owy friends, beloved and dear. 

We know the promise, '' man shall live for ever," 
But many till they lose some loved one wait 

To feel, here in the body, nought can sever 

Freed souls from those within the earthly state ! 

They are around us when in summer lying 
In spicy shade we listen to the pines, — 

For when this world says most the next is trying 
To show itself behind the outward signs ! 



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TO J. G. WHIT TIER. 

You tell as no one else can tell 

Of common things the beauty, 
And cast for us a magic spell 

On working days and duty ; 
The spade and plough are glorified, 

Each honest man our neighbour, 
For we have learned to clasp with pride 

The rugged hand of labor. 

Yet can your quiet tones ring out 

In hottest condemnation. 
And put old-world abuse to rout 

With scathing indignation : 
Still, ever in your fierce crusades 

Just anger warm above us, 
Your greater message never fades — 

Our '' Father " still can love us ! 



" TANTALUS." 

Eyes to behold the beauty 

Of earth and its pleasant things ; 

A heart that could gladly answer, 

The summons Life's Morning brings : — 

Joy, in the soul upspringing 

Like the song of a fairy bird, 
And Love, in whose eloquent silence 

His strongest appeal is heard. — 

To watch, with a comprehension 
Of all that this '' love " might be 

From its dawn to its high fulfillment,. 
Yet never do more than See ! 



Not even the bitter solace 

* It passed, but it might have been 
But to watch, while for ever standmg 

With a bottomless gulf between ! 



TAXTALL'S. 

We know how a dog is wistful. 
And searches his master's face 

With a yearning to understand him., 
But oh, what a woeful case 

If there in the rough skinned body 
Dwelt a reasoning human soul. 

Its utter abasement reading 
In changeless entirety whole 1 

Imprisoned and chained for ever 

To run at his equals' feet ; 
A soul with its love and longing — 

Yet a do(:[ in the common street ! 

O Tantalus ! fabled story 

Has pictured your hungr\- eyes, 

And your hands outstretched to gather 
A fruit that forever flies : 

Ko longer you mourn, a captive 
On Tartarus' gloomy shore, 

But living you move among us 
And your hunger is doubly sore I 



--e^hrar: 



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Aiiip lie aer^ge at swea: wftnepcyei: 

Or t&inag&. the gretsi .inif annsar o^: 
Tie tfa umy. pink-icwsKif bTanrfsie graas. 

^^ ower OS t&e tmilmg- b.-mntas 
OimM. dag-roses, pink jmi whits. 

Ciww ^ t&e kme with sannntar snldiami;, 
AaA ffiSf mock tbe TowgmvJ- wight. 



i6 JUL Y IN THE TSLE OF WIGHT. 

Beside the stile into the cornfield, 
In feathery tufts of grasses green, 

Like cottage children gazing skywards, 
The bright-eyed marguerites are seen. 

Beyond, far out in blazing sunshine, 
The well-filled wheat ears slowly turn 

To golden brown above the poppies 
That mid the " Kaiser-blumen " burn. 

Across the lane tall hazel bushes, 

With young nuts clustered, shade a pool, 

Where meadow sweet and myosotis 
Grow on the margin damp and cool. 

There, on the surface of the water. 

Unruffled by a breath of air. 
Among dark leaves the water lilies 

Their golden hearts wide open wear. 



THE WIND. 

O to be borne away 
On the wings of the wild North wind ! 
Then surely the soul would find 

The light of a grander day. 

Away from the city street, 
Where the sunset crimson and gold 
Burns red on the pavement cold 

So trodden by weary feet. 

Afar through the wind-tossed sky, 
Over valley and lofty hill, 
To the sea ! where the gale's fierce will 

Goads the ocean steeds to fly. 

Yet faster the soul's desire 
Can speed than the storm-wind fleet. 
Outstripping the tempest's feet 

Or the thunder's herald of fire ! 



THE MAIDEN'S QUES'llON. 

Love ! — what is love? for I fain would discover 
All the new wonder, the joy, the surprise, 

Hid in this mystery deep as the ocean. 
True as the pole-star, far-off as the skies. 

Fingers, you tremble, though Love never pressed you ; 

Eyes, you are downcast and filling with tears ! 
Lips, you are smiling with no one to answer ; 

Heart ! you axe throbbing with hopes and with fears. 

Here stand my feet at the gate of the Future, 
Waiting to hear the great secret revealed, 

Touch me, O Love, though they say you bring sorrow ; 
Soon let your bitter-sweet fount be unsealed. 

Love 1 — what is love? for mine eyes they are blind- 
fold, 

Here in the light of a mid-summer day ; 
What is around me I guess without seeing, 

Praying that Love take the bandage away. 



THE MAIDEN'S QUESTION. rg 

Dear one unknown ! I have notliing to give you, 

Only this heart to be laid at your feet, 
Only a soul — yet the soul of a woman, 

Ready for you, undivided, complete I 

Power most divine ! oh delay not your coming, 
Bringing the knowledge I seek without fears ; 

Grander your wisdom than sages could teach me, 
All of earth's smiles would I give for your tears ! 

Love ! — what is Love ? — for I only am dreaming 
What he may be ; yet my sleep is so light 

Through these closed lids shine the rays of his coming ; 
Wake thee, mv soul, to t'ne Quenchless delight ! 



ALL SOULS' DAY. 

Souls of the faithful ! patiently awaiting 
The joy celestial and the heavenly feast, 

You at the aUar now commemorating 

Here we present before our great High Priest. 

You are assured of glory everlasting, 

Soon, patient souls, your hope will be complete ; 
We still may fall, though armed with prayer and 
fasting, 

Smce this weak mortal clogs our eager feet. 

Some of your company have watched long ages 
Of calm endurance pass in measure slow; 

Some, ah their names are fresh on memory's pages- 
Were not among you one short year ago ! 

You, waiting souls, how could we but remember ^ 
If out of sight most close are you at hand 

When All Souls' Day in every bleak November 
Records the members added to your band. 



ALL SOUL'S DAY. Jtr 

Dear ones invisible ! henceforth disunion 

Betwixt us is for ever swept away, 
Your hearts read ours in the one vast communion^ 

As you pass forward to the perfect day. 

Not long shall last this outward separation, 
Soon shall we too draw back this earthly veil 

To wait with you " in hope " the consummation 
Of His sure promise, Who can never fail. 

For you, departed, and for us remaining 

We here the offering of the altar make ; 
Pleading that both, a speedy grace obtaining. 
To see the very face of (rod may wake ! 



OUTSIDE. 

In the seethe and the whirl ol our Hving, 
This tangle of pleasure and pain, — 

A soul crowd receiving and giving, — 
Alone some hearts ever remain I 

Only lifeless is life if the being 

Lights not with the innermost flame ; 

Outside stand these hungry, while seeing 
The mystery but as a name. 

Alas ! what are measureless glories 
By saint and by prophet foretold, 

With this life unanswered.^ — their stories 
For the future can only unfold. 

The Then, not the Now, is forever. 
Out of reach drops the gift of to-day ; 

They only interpret the Never 
Outside of this Present who stay ! 



OUTSIDE. 



2J 



On their forehead though patience be graven 

In their eyes He a loss and a pain ; 
Tliough the wreck too floats on to a haven 



Yet some things come never again ! 



HIS MESSAGE ACROSS THE SEA. 

Darling ! /s it " a separation, 

The pathway barring between us two, 

Lashing its waves in exultation, 

Drowning the words I speak to you? " 

Is it a mask that smiles, dissembling 
Shadowy caverns where lost ships lie ; 

Sweet, as you call me are you trembling 
Lest in the coming I too, may die ? 

Ah ! this sea with its solemn dirges 

Well do I love though it wakes your fear ; 

What if my voice is stilled ! — its surges 
Carry my thought to your loving ear. 

Eai'ih veils secrets that seem as cruel ! 

Tenderly clasped in its far depths cold 
Many a priceless hoarded jewel 

Sure of a finding my sea doth hold. 



THE MESSAGE ACROSS THE SEA. 25 \ 

Dearest, why at the storm wind shiver ? 

Come, as I daily come, to the strand, 
Softly then will the spray deliver 

Kisses of mine on your cheek and hand. 1 

No dreary chasm our hearts to sever 

This ocean stands as a living sign. 
Surety, Love, of the grand forever 

When nothing can part your life and mine I i 



'•'AMOR MEUS." 

spoken by S, Agnes. 

My Love is as a crimson rose 

For thorns about his path are met ; 

Around his head a crown there glows 
With many a blood-red jewel set. 

My Love he is a king ! but this 
High throne of his is like a tree ! 

His hands and feet I seek to kiss 
But oh ! I cannot get them free. 

My Love is as the lily fair ; 

Beloved, speak ! art thou in pain, — 
Thou art so white, — can grief prevail 

In One who over kings doth reign } 

My Love he holds so vast a sway 

That wlien he sighs the sun grows dim ; 

His smile turns midnight into day 
And draws whole nations unto Him ! 



AMOR ME US. 

Three nobles near my Love have place ; 

One evermore on him must gaze, 
One wears his very form and face, 

Her weeping eyes one dares not raise. 

My Love a kingly progress made 
One time, afar in eastern lands, 

His robe was of the purple shade, 
A slender sceptre in his hands. 

My Love, — would you his name unfold 
Its sweetness melts the very soul, — 

'Tis Jesus/ Jesus/ and I hold 

In Him the world entire and whole I 



PROTOPLASM. 

" The vital substance of the xvholc universe, identical for one 
and all, is semi-fluid, transparent, colourless, structureless : 

to form plants, animals, and men. A distinct 

nnd special endoiument of ivhich ive know absolutely nothing." 
See the " Supernatural in Nature." jf. W. Reynolds. 

So you have found it at last ! the secret, the root of 

our being, 
Sought for with knife and with scalpel, guessed at by 

science and reason ; 
Ever eluding the searcher, yet nerving the arm of the 

seeking. 
AVhat is it, now that you hold it, labelled like each of 

the members, 
Muscles and nerves that it quickens, — is it a fluid, an 

essence 
Pointing that tale of the fire Prometheus stole from the 

heavens ? 
You who have learned to make lightning can you 

store tills for occasion ! 



PROTOPLASM. 2g 

Touching and seeing are trifles — to you, — but it yet 
has been whispered 

How this last finding of yours no further repUes to 
your questions : 

Now, though the man is reduced, returned to original 
gases 

Still you have this that remains, slipping 'twixt the- 
ories and hngers ! 

Strange ! that you sages are powerless like the vast 
herd far beneath )ou, — 

Poor silly fools, priest-deluded, deeming a God must 
have made them ! 



We too have that we acknowledge, — still cannot solve 
or unravel ; 

Surely a presence discerning, witnessed of none of our 
senses. 

Yet of a certainty filling tlie uttermost bounds of exist- 
ence, — 

Aye ! and the heights far beyond where you even 
never have ventured ! 

One is your question with ours, and we ' fools ' can 
read the solution : — 



JO PROTOPLASM. 

Would that }0U knew how its key-note Hes closest a 

little child's fingers, 
Far out of reach of your weighing, your measuring 

tapes, and your sifting 1 
We, the weak ones of the earth, the feeble, the simple, 

the children. 
Read the vast mystery clearly, entering into its glory 
Through the low portals that faith guards closely, the 

while she can pass them : 
Never by questionings troubled further before us there 

opens 
Wonder succeeding to wonder, bounded of space nor 

horizon. 
Life which you ticket so coolly, this, the last door at 

which science 
Knocks with now impotent fingers, calling with never 

an answer, 
Opens not into but out of the kingdoms of sight and 

mere reason. 
Not as a \-apour, an essence, undefined stands your 

answer there waiting, 
But as a Presence Immortal, of all tilings the birth and 

the ending, — 
One whom you know not, while He is the Wisdom, 

the Power, you are seeking. 



31 PROTOPLAS.IT. 

' Life ' have you called Him? yea, ' Life ' most truly is 

chief of his titles 
Since ever)- fragment of life through Him and of Him 

holds its being I 
Though you have left Him you live, and therefore He 

never has left you 
But patiently waits till He teach you two words, and 

their wisdom, — " Our Father ! " 



"LIGHTEN OUR DARKNESS!" 

A CRY. 

We are dumb but Thou canst speak, 
Thou art strong and we are weak ; 
We know naught Thou knowest all, 
Thou art firm while we but fall ; — 

Thou the morn and we the night, — 

Son of Mary, grant us light ! 

We are hungry, Thou canst fill ; 

Tears we weep that Thou canst still ; 

We on earth with longing cry. 

Thou from heaven dost satisfy ; — 
Thou the morning, we the night, — 
Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 

We are smitten, Thou art whole, 
Thou to joy canst turn our dole. 
We are deaf but Thou canst hear, 
Thou hast safety we have fear ; — 

We are smirched and Thou art white. 

Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 



LIGHTEN OUR DARKA'ESS. 

We are mortal, Thou divine ; 
Ours is time, "forever" Thine, 
This our kingship soon is o'er 
Thine endures for ever more ; 

Thou the sun and we the night. 

Son of Mary, grant us hght ! 

We are stained. Thou pure as snow. 

Yet our human Thou dost know ; 

We must (/ie — but Thou dost hve ! 

We are asking — do Thou give ; — 
Thou the noonday, we the night, — 
Son of Mary ! grant us Hght ! 

Thou who this our flesh didst take 
Force our d.eaming souls to wake ; 
Call us, Jesu ! that we be 
Chosen, faithful, unto Thee ; — 

Day Star ! dissipate our night, — 

Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 



33 



PARTED. 

Tonight the happy children all are singing 
Glad carols, for the solemn midnight chime, 

No darkness but a shining light is bringing, 
Fairer than high noon in the summer-time ! 

Only a few more hours 1 and in the stable 
The Child of Mary faithful hearts behold ; 

Absent in body yet in spirit able 

To greet the Babe by ancient seers foretold. 

O fairest night ! all nights and days excelling : 
No voice but hers dare breathe thy wondrous 
tale ; 

In awe we wait for Him who has been dwelling 
Hidden awhile behind that stainless veil. 

Not quite undimmed the joy as we are kneeling 
To watch our Day- Star's rising once again, 

Through this rapt waiting of the hour is stealing 
A yearning for one face that teaches pain. 



PARTED. 5-5 

Beloved, is it true this solemn season 
Of sacred joy shall never see you more 

Here in our midst ? O God despite the reason, 
We cannot drown this throb of anguish sore. 

Light of our eyes ! today knew no escaping 
The bitter sigh, the hot rebellious strife, 

Against His will ; our soul each hour was shaping 
Your thoughts and actions in that strange new 
hfe. 

Now know we truly you are ours no longer, 

But vowed and sealed to Mary's Son and King, 

Would that our faith were but a little stronger, 
To cure with love for Him the parting's sting I 

Yet, Lord ! Thou kiwivesf, and Thy heart is 
caring 
For or.rs, — constrain us by Thy love, and then 
These souls of ours Thy handmaid's rapture 
sharing 
Shall also answer to Thy Will, Amen ! 



THE UNIVERSAL QUESTION. 

Why was that bhghted, root, and branch and leaf, 
That should have stood with the forest monarchs 
green ? 

Why was the spring filled deep with tears of grief 
Where cool bright water should alone have been ? 

Why is the empty hearth, where never fire 

May kindle with its warmth and radiant cheer? 

Why these implanted-longings, hope, desire, 
Elsewhere most innocent yet wrongful here ? 

Why was it choked, the brook that should have grown 

To be a river ere it gained the sea? 
Why is the fliirest kingdom daily shown 

To those in bonds, who never can be free ? 

Why is the desert field, where never seed 
May fall to quicken in the sun and shower? 

Why leaps the thought that cannot grow to deed, 
The burning wish without the gift of power? 



THE UNIVERSAL QUESTION. 37 

Why is it so disfigured, altered, scarred. 

Which once was made to " image " the Divine? 

Why is the web all \\TOUght awry and marred, 
Where gold and silver traceries should shine ? 

World ! are thy questionings but vain, — for none 

In all the universe to satisfy? 
There is an Answer ! — and there is but one — 

Thou art our Father, and Thou knowest why ! 



A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG.— (A. D., 1340.) 

THE SUMMONS. 

Wake ! wake ! the sun is shining, 
Our wreaths must we be twining, 
Come, maidens all, arise ! 

With joy the woods are ringing. 
The meadow-lark is singing. 

The May-buds ope their eyes. 

O'er all the bushes tangled 
The cobwebs, dew bespangled. 
Shine out with rainbow hue. 

Among the fresh green grasses 
Where now the spring wind passes 
Peep out the bells of blue. 

Wild rose shoots pink and tender. 
Anemones so slender, 

Must all be gathered soon. 



A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG. sq 

The cowslips too are waiting ; 
Come out ! nor stand debating, 
We must be back ere noon. 



THE RETURN. 

See, lads ! our quest is over, 
Each field and woodland rover, 
Returns at last with glee ; 

For now each bonny maiden 
With bud and blossom laden, 
Desires the Queen to see. 

None flout and none are jealous ! 
Each lass and lad are zealous, 

(Last year the half did frown !) 

How swiftly move our fingers, 
The weaving never lingers ; — 
Behold the finished crown ! 

The maids forget their graces, 
The youths all take their places. 
And then, with chorus sweet, 



40 A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG, 

The Maypole tall and stately 
We leave, and more sedately 

Pass down the village street ; — 

The grey old church we'er filling 
For here, with love most willing 
The crowning must be seen. 

Sweet Mary, Maid and Mother I 
We choose thee, and no other, 
To be our one May Queen I 



AN ECHO FROM BORNEO. 

'* Where is the Hght ? we He in bonds of darkness 1 
Life is so hard, and, oh, we do not know 

Where we are going ; all the gods are silent, 
Our land is desolate with sin and woe. 

** Some One has made us, but we shrink in terror 
Before the greatness that we dimly feel. 

Lands of the sunset ! do you hold no message 
That might some comfort to our hearts reveal ? 

** Have you no secret from our spirit hidden ? 

Come over, help us, tell it, for we die. 
And fall away into an unknown darkness. 

O help us quickly ! do not pass us by. 

" O come to us, in spite of loss and danger. 

For there are many here with outstretched hands ; 

And He, the Unknown One, men say you worship 
Does He not care for even eastern lands? " 



THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 

I saw Love sleeping where the wild bees feed, 
Close, close, I drew to grasp — the empty air ! 

His shadow flitted o'er the dewy mead, 
I looked, and only saw a swallow there. 

Love whispered to me once beside the sea. 
So tender-sweet his accents to mine ear 

My heart stood still to listen — then, ah me ! — 
Only the waves' low plashing could I hear ! 

One passed me singing, in the woodland green. 
Such wild glad notes ne'er chanted mortal bird ; 

Long, long I tracked the minstrelsy unseen 
In vain, — then knew I it was Love I heard ! 

Love wrapped me to his heart one balmy night, — 
That soft caress awoke such joy supreme 

My soul brimmed over with her new delight ; — 
But morning broke, and it was but a dream ! 



THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 43 \ 

\ 

So Love I follow all the wide world through, ; 

His pilgrim, though but these of him I hold, — 

A dream, a song, a whisper ! — yet 'tis true ] 

Who follows on shall yet his face behold ! \ 



A WORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 

Boys and girls ! do you remember 
How they told us all last year, 

In the "Advocate," some stories 
That we all were grieved to hear ? 

Showing how the little children, 

In the Eastern lands afar. 
Often are not loved and cared for 

As our darling babies are. 

For the cruel heathen parents 
Oft times treat them very ill, 

Hurt, neglect them, ah ! and sometimes. 
Those wee helpless creatures kill ! 

Of the brave priests then they told us,. 

Bearing Jesus and the Cross, 
To win back those savage people 

Gently from their sin and loss. 



A IVORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 4s 

As you know, they seek the babies^ 
Whom from death they often buy^ 

That they may baptise and rear them 
For our Saviour's home on high. 

Then, dear boys and girls, they asked you 

For the pennies you would spare 
If you love the gentle Jesus, 

And His tender work would share. 

So I think you'd like to listen 

To a story, which I know 
Is quite true because I heard it 

Happen just a month ago. 

'Twas a little girl named Mary, 

Nearly eight like some of you. 
Who had read those very stories 

And knew well that they were true. 

Now her sister long had promised 

When a certain day came round 
She would give her darling Mary 

All to spend one golden pound I 



A WORD WITH THE CHILDREX. 

Just on what she most might wish for, 
Every penny she should spend 

"Too much," did you say, " to give her? " 
Ah, but wait and hear the end ! 

How she skipped about her sister 
When the day appointed came, 

For the first two hours her planning 
Was for doll, and book, and game. 

Then she suddenly grew silent, 

Creeping to her sister's knee 
*' Sissie dear," she softly whispered, 

*' You are all so kind to me 

"That I want to give those shillings 
All to Jesus, please take five 

For the Nazareth Sisters, Mother 
Helped when she was here alive. 

And I want to send the others 
To those mission-priests to buy. 

Just one baby back for Jesus, 

Would they. Sissy ? write and try. 



A IVORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 47 

"And — and do you think," she faltered 

"" Though they live so far away, 
They would name my baby Mary, — 

So that I for it could pray? " 

This was done. Now don't think, children. 

Cents are all too small to save ; 
They can hold more self-denial 

Than the gold that Mary gave ! 

For our King and Leader, Jesus, 

Prizes eveij gift of love, 
From your hands, a shining jewel 

For His crown in Heaven above- 



A CHILD'S SEARCH. 

The child was playing in a wood 
Where trees all tall and leafy stood, 
And thought to find the forest's king 
Whose sight some wondrous gift would bring. 

He marked the oak-tree's hoary head 
P'ar o'er the glade its shadow spread, 
And knew that from that sturdy side 
Fair ships are hewn to stem the tide. 

There too uprose the lofty pine 
Whose rustling needles, long and fine, 
Made solemin music in the breeze ; — 
The forest's king was none of these ! 

The noblest tree he could not find, 
So left, one day, the wood behind. 
And took a narrow track, that lay 
Before his feet for many a day. 



A CHILD'S SEARCH. 4Q 

It led through many foreign lands, 
It crossed the desert's burning sands ; 
No more a child, he did intend 
To trace it on unto its end ! 

At length, before a stony hill. 

It stopped, and there the youth stood still, 

For at its summit seemed to grow 

A tree whose shape he did not know. 

Two branches stretched athwart the sky 
As if to draw all passer's-by ; 
Too far to see what on them grew 
The slender stripling nearer drew. 

The hill was strewn with many a stone, 
There grew among them thorns alone. 
But gazing up that rocky height 
He saw the tree gleam foith with light. 

Then knew he that the search was o'er 
And he need travel on no more ; 
Of thorns and stones he took small heed 
But up the hill he climbed with speed. 



JO A CHILD'S SEARCH. 

They cut, they tore his hands and feet, — 
A marvel ! lo, the pain was sweet ! 
One only object could he see 
Until he stood beneath the Tree. 

Although its boughs of leaves v/ere bare 
Light, warmth, and shelter all were there, 
And when he upward raised his eyes 
They overflowed with sweet surprise. 

That priceless Fruit that hung above 
Pierced through his very soul with love ; — 
Ah, then he fell upon his knees 
For he had found the King of Trees ! 



THAT SEA. 

There lies a Sea, whose bounds no man can measure, 
Whose plashing waves know neither ebb or tide ; 

Though many pass its borders none have leisure 
To bring us tidings of the other side. 

Like that strange mountain of the eastern fable 

Attracting vessels to it from afar, 
So are these waters, for they too are able 

To draw all living things that were and are. 

Some eyes behold it ever closely gleaming. 
While many scarcely think that it can be ; 

Yet, whether strangely or familiar seeming, 
All footsteps turn one day toward that Sea. 

Sooner or later all attempt the crossing. 
Unwitting of the time that it may take, 

For oft the waves are high, in fury tossing, 
Though sometimes tranquil as a summer lake. 



j2 THAT SEA. 

In meadows green the little children straying 

Heed not near by the great Sea's murmuring voice. 

But when it summons them they leave their playing 
And at the tender mighty call rejoice. 

With eager smiling face and outstretched finger 

They point to that far-off horizon line, 
As if to that which will not let them linger, 

Drawing their feet where those blue waters shine. 

And we ? in our ears also ever nearer 

Echo those solemn waves that call us too. 

Bidding us count those unseen shores far dearer 
Than everything we yet have come to view. 

O sea ! O sea ! with summons all-prevaiUng 

You draw our feet toward your silvery strand. — 

Amen, — we come ! and with a hope unfailing 
Press forward to that unknown further land ! 



THE DEAD POET. 

He %\TOte for us who have no voice to speak 
The yearning that consumes our ven' soul ; 

His tender chords are ours, if we are weak 
In utterance his thought in us is whole ! 

^^'e liie those words of his ! our silent tongue 
Trembled with murmurs half distinct when he 

Spoke out for us the longings that had strung 
Our hearts and opened these dim eyes to see. 

His pen the .\ngel tipped with heavenly fire ; 

Far up with Tasso. Dante, now his seat : 
With pain we too are quickened and desire, — 

Lord, for thy speech can we be ever meet? 

Only dumb dogs awhile, and yet — some day — 
Some where, some how, — deep in our hearts we- 
know 

These bonds and fetters all wiJJ drop away 
And all our frozen words to utterance flow ! 



HIS TEMPLE SHALL BE AMONG MEN. 

That tent was blest that a phrophet's band, 

Bore on for years through a desert land ; 

Commanded, ruled by a plan divine 

Its every part was a solemn sign : 
But the glory it screened from the eyes of men 
By a fairer curtain was veiled since then ! 

The Temple of old was vast to see 

And filled the land with its majesty ; 

The nations afar declared its fame, 

And ages re-echo down its name ; 
Yet the Presence it sheltered hath been shown 
In a fitter shrine than of carven stone 1 

Ofie only home hath the wide earth seen 
Where the Lord of Life well housed hath been? 
One dwelling wherein the mighty Guest 
Could enter smiling and joy to rest, — 
And this home wliere a god could hold high state 
Was the breast of a maiden immaculate ! 



THE FIRST LAUREL LEAF TO L. C. ^L 

Can this be waking? am I sleep-deluded 
By oft repeated dreams of hope, deferred 

At every sunrise till my soul grew weary 

With falsest hopes and vrhispers, nightly heard ? 

And yester-eve again, Morgana's vision 
Mocked me, elusive o'er the desert sand, 

Till in despair I v/ept, and woke — O marvel ! — 
To find a laurel leaf within my hand ! 

The seeds, tear-watered, now at length have quickened , 
The night is breaking in the dawn's first gleam ; 

And Spring, my spring is here ! so slow in coming. 
Speak I pov/ers of song 1 and tell me if I dream ? 

As for the crowm itself my soul in patience 
Can I possess until the end be known. 

Laugh with me skies of May ! sing for me, thrushes ! 
For me ! for me ! a laurel leaf has grown ! 



MY SHIP. 

It was the dream of childish days, 
When, through a shifting golden haze, 

I watched each far-off stately sail 
Across the future's trackless sea. 
And one I deemed must come for me 

With store of many a precious bale. 

Silent upon the busy strand, 

W^ith straining eye and outstretched hand, 

I waited till they touched the shore 
And listened for the owner's name, — 
But it was never mine that came. 

No merchandise for me they bore ! 

And now the days are turned to years. 
Long dried are all the bitter tears 

By that old childish self once shed ; 
A hundred ships have crossed the tide 
For eager friends on every side 

Yet neither hope or trust is dead, 



MY SHIP. ST 

But live and ever brighter glow. 
For standing here, I smile to know 

How, far across that rolling sea, 
Each further hour that here I wait 
Adds richer treasure to the freight 

With which they lade my ship for me. 



THE SOUL TO ITS CREATOR. 

Take Thou this spark, which thou didst will to be, 

O Cause, Original, of all men see ! 
Draw to Thyself this tiny flame of life, 

Housed in the dwelling Thou didst also will ; 
Lo ! I am bruised with all this mortal strife, — 

Thou source of longings earth nor men can still. 

Here, from this prisoned nook of time and place, 
Forth have I gazed through boundless realms of 
space : 

Full oft Thy garment could I not behold, 
Till blackest horror made me faint and fail, 

Yet by my being still Thy hem I hold, — 
Though this the mortal is Thy darkest veil. 

Take me ! — nay, that is needless ! — I am Thine, 

Created, held within a grasp divine. 
However dark those depths that fear may sound. 

However far the silent skies above 
Thou, Who hast made them, art the more profound, 

The higher, O my God ! for Thou art Love. 



MID-OCEAN. 

In the great cup of the ocean 
Rimmed to the arching sky, 
We seem but idly floating 
As night and day sUp by. 

Yet are we moving onward 

To gain some far-off strand, — 

Alone in this vast hollow 
As of a giant hand. 

Like Brandan and the hermits, 
Who traversed many seas 

To reach a fairer haven 
Than the Hesperides. 

Through varied mist and sunshine. 
Bright noons and evenings grey,. 

Till suddenly before us 
We see at break of day. 



A> MID- OCEAN. 



Time falling like a garment 

To drop into the west, 
For they gleam out before us, — 

The islands of the blessed. 

Vain are the dreams, the watching, 
Vain are the yearnings sore 

To sight on the horizon 
That line of golden shore. 

For many a shifting harbour, 

Long days and months between, 
Beloved, lie before us 
Ere those dear isles are seen. 

Yet dreams are but truth-shadows. 

And he with vision clear 
Lives ever for that moment 

Which brings their substance near. 



DEATH. 

Call you that Death that casts that death aside 
Binding Prometheus to the granite rock, 

Chaining the motor spring of truest pride, 

Barring the door that hungry hands must knock? 

Nay ! this is Life at last,— so long desired. 

To quench the burning thirst of God inspired ! 

Call you this Death that opens blended eyes, 
Bringing the dawn to children of the night, 

Cleaving the tomb from whence the Psychs flies, 
And teaching stammering tongues to speak aright ? 

Nay ! this is Life, — the Life ordained to sway. 
With rule immortal over time and clay. 

Call you this Death that ends a combat dread, — 
Whence seemed there neither respite or release, 

Where heai-ts were riven and the soul's blood shed, — 
Bidding the tempest of the passions cease ? 

Nay, this is Life ! — the sunshine after rain, 
Spring after winter, health in lieu of pain ' 



62 DEA TH. 

Call you this Death that breaks the mirror dim. 
Where pictured stood the Leader of our Hne, 

To show Him face to face, mid cherubim, — 
The woman's seed and yet the All-Divine? 

Nay, this at last is Life ! — Life, boundless, free ! 
Our birthday, brothers, to eternity ! 



"VITA EST LUX HOMINUM." 

Thou art the Way these weary feet are seeking 
Among the weeds and thorns ourselves have sown 

By exaltation of the creature's reason 

To gauge and measure a Creator's throne. 

Thou art the Truth for which our hands are groping, 

That jev/el rashly cast of us away 
Because divinity dared claim submission 

From this — a spark within a house of clay. 

Thou art the Life from v/hich we turn inipatient 
The shallow burning cup of time to drain, 

Taught by the guide, our own great little reason. 
One hour of joy outweighs an age's pain. 

Thou art the Love for which our souls are fainting 
The while v/e scoff to think that Thou canst be. 

That Thou declarest, — God and man Incarnate, 
The all-sufficing for eternity ! 



TWO WOMEN. 

Look you ! how to chose between ? 
One has lost what should have been 

All a lifetime's pride and crown : 
She with nothing has not thrown 
Aught to dogs ; — by this alone 

Earns the other scoff and frown ? 

Filled the one a queenly seat, 
Ere before a traitor's feet 

Ruined lay her high estate. 
Disinherited from birth, 
Is the second better worth, 

Save in name, an honoured fate ? 

Smirched the one's white robe for she- 
Sought the heat too eagerly, 

Deeming safety far too sure. 
Pshaw, this other ! what her claim, 
(Who might never touch the flame) 

That we should proclaim her pure?* 



7'PFO WOMEN. 6s 

Prone the one in mire and dust, 
Mid the broken shards of trust, — 

Turns from her each passing eye : — 
Many style this other friend 
Yet what virtues may they lend 

Her with never trust to buy ? 

One possessed a jewel rare, 
Zoned about with tender care ; — 

Woe the greedy, thievish hand ! 
Sh-e who, watching, could but hold 
Worthless stones in place of gold 

No whit higher dare may stand. 

Well ! the judgment passes me ! — 
One thing more is clear to see 

Of these women to be true ; 
Both have drained a cup of woe- 
Both the fire of torment know — 

God, mayhap, will weigh their due ! 



QUAE SUB HIS FIGURIS VERE LATITAS. T. 

Why will ye pass Him by, — 

The patient One who waits 

Close to your palace gates, 
Often scarce sheltered from the wintry sky ? 

Is it that wealth and pride 

Of our mere earthly fame 

Can blind you to this Name, 
And from such lineage turn your minds aside ? 

Alas for you this thing I 

How at your very door 

The ragged crowd press o'er 
His threshold to the presence of the King : 

Where each receives from Him 

A title-deed, so vast 

Of right its power will last 
When the stars perish and the sun grows dim { 



QUAE SUB HIS FIGURES VERE LA TIT AS. 67 

Ah me ! how can you stand 

With proud repellant air, 

While He is waiting there 
With yearning heart and loving outstretched 
hand ? 

Not always thus ! for He 

Must vindicate His power 

And will in one dread hour 
With the sharp sword of slighted majesty. 

He in this lowly guise 

You scorn, will rise to smite 

His mockers with the light 
Of justice from a (lod's offended eyes ! 



THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 

TO L. C. M. 

What ! here again ? I think I hear you cry, 

Half wondering at the importunity 
Which, after all the treasure that you gave, 

Could find, perchance, another boon to crave. 

Yes, it is I who come, with meekest eyes 
To deprecate your anger or surprise ; 

Not that the first, liege lady, e'er could find 
A lasting place in one so deeply kind. 

But, lest the latter should your spirit fill, 

I straightway crave from your most gracious will 

A gift, — most small to you, — how large to me ! 
To you a dew-drop, in mine eyes a sea ! 

To be forever mine, my very own. 

Sealed, signed, delivered up to me alone ; 

Give me, sweet lady, ere we seem to part 
One little corner in your gracious heart. 



THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 6q 

Its rooms are many ; some are bright all day, 
Softly through these the southern breezes play. 

And sing to those you house of summer hours 
When love triumphant reigns among the flowers. 

Then there are others, where the shadow falls 
Of prisoning bars along the moonlit walls, 

Where chants unseen a mournful bird, whose plaint 
Recalls the yearning prayer of some white saint. 

I'here sleep the sweet dead hours so long gone by, 
And they whose eyes behold no earthly sky : — 

l^ut I, your beggar, am of low degree 

And all the guest rooms are unfit for me ! 

Oh, lead me past them all and up the stair 
To that wee gable room you wot of, where 

The morning-glories at the window peep, 

Beneath whose eaves the swallows dart and sweep 

]]earing the message of their poet-queen, 
Across the sea where she of late hath been. 

Make this my secret nook, where eagerly 
I'll wait the hand-bell of your majesty ; 



70 THE BEGGAR'S PETITIOX. 

Too far to break upon your joys or tears 

Yet near enough to serve you all the yera-s, — 

Hand maid or jester, which you deign to ciiv)ose 
I'll be, liege lady, — pray you not refuse ! 



QUEKNSTOWN HARBOR. 

Our steamer lay tossing, the emigrants waiting 
Whose green and brown hillsides rose near in our 
view, 

On a heart dull v.ith sorrow the gay talk was grating, 
For, Erin, that spirit was aching for you ! 

Oh, how cruel that throng as the exiles drew nearer. 
From one to another the laugh, the jest, flew : — 

Green land ! let them gibe at thy children, the dearer, 
Each drop in their veins to the friend that is true. 

On the hill there above us the grey walls were standing, 
To tell of some shrine that the centuries knew, — 

Perchance it was reared ere the Roman's first landing 
Found the cave-sheltered Briton dyed rudely with 
blue. 

Oh, to picture those days ere the Saxon came over ! 
When the learning of Ireland the far peoples drew, 
When the saint, and the sage, and the brave knightly 
lover 
Filled the veins of the nation with life ever new ! 



72 Q UEENS TO WN HA RB OR. 

Then dark fell the cloud of a grievous oppression, 
And the throes of that agony Clod alone knew, — 

For His own is this land of the matyr's confession 
By the blood of the patriot watered like dew ! 

On her cross and her banner they bade Erin trample, 
That the fame of her treason to them might accrue^ 

But the world stood abashed at her dauntless example ; 
On the anvil of torture her 7nettle rang true. 

Ah, well have they striven, who robbed her of glory. 
Her faith and traditions to crush and subdue, 

But the Irish heart cleaves to the land and its story, 
And they \s\vo forget ^\^ but worthless and few. 

'Tis vain to speak peace when the veins are hot burn- 
ing!— 

God only, dear Erin, thy soul can endue 
With calmness and courage for loftily spurning 

Revenge and the madness the country must rue. 

Shake off the fell thought that was born of thy sorrow, — 
Hark ! thy patriots call thee, the hour is in view ! 

Shall the "Sun-burst" not lighten thy hill-tops to-morrow. 
And the Father of justice award thee thy due ! 



A PALM SUNDAY DREAM— 1887. 

It was o'er, that solemn giving from the steps of Jesus'" 

throne, 
Of the slender victor-branches : first to those, His very 

own, 
Chosen, set a])art, annointed, not alone to wield the 

keys, 
But to utter crucifixion of the life of self and ease. 

Then to all the white-robed striplings ; some whose 

boyish faces shone 
With a solemn comprehension, as the quiet groups 

passed on, 
Of the real and very meaning of the waving sign they 

bore 
And the long and mortal struggle that must lie their 

face before. 



24 'i PALM SUNDA V DREAM. 

In a rising cloud of incense had the long procession 

passed 
Down our midst toward the portal, where the trumpet's 

warlike blast 
Rang the Royal Psalmist's greeting to his victor Lord 

and Son 
AMien the gates and doors eternal were thrown open 

wide and won. 

With a moment's awe of silence all the mighty crowd 

was stilled, — 
Then a few faint notes of triumph all the listening 

spirit thrilled, 
And I saw, as in a vision, rising dim and far away, 
The first gathering of an army, through the ages cold 

and grey. 

Few and far between the footsteps after His who led 
the van, — 

Ah, the ringing of tJiat footfall told of more than mor- 
tal man ! 

But the sounds were quickly swelling, louder grew the 
the tramp of feet. 

And the broken notes of music grew to rounded 
chords complete. 



A PALM SUXDAY DREAM. 75 

How the ranks were filling, closing, as their march 

came down the wind ! 
On, through clash of mortal struggle, leaving centuries 

behind, 
How the angry cries were silenced of their fierce 

relentless foes. 
While the strains of coming triumph ever louder, 

higher, rose 1 

Then, — ah, who may tell the vision I — into sight the 

Leader came, 
With His blood-red banner streaming and His robe of 

living flame ; 
All His soldier-wounds were glowing brighter than the 

sun above, 
And His steadfast face was lambent with unutterable 

love. 

As He passed, He gazed upon us, beckoned slightly 

with His hand, 
But as, awestruck, we w^re rising to complete that 

mighty band, 
All the vision paled and faded, then bewildered I 

looked round. 
Ah, my God 1 within that army let my place be surely 

found. 



UNDER THE CEDAR, OR LOVE'S LURES. 

O butterfly ! who only yester-eve 

Thy shrouding prison bands didst joyful cleave, 

Those long dull creeping hours to spurn and leave,. 

I pray ! 
Beside me for a space thy wings display 
To draw Love's eye, if he should pass this way. 

Wild bee I thy search is vain for honeyed cheer, 

Beneath my cedar ; yet the myrtle near 

With white flame glows ; tarry thou therefore here, 

I pray ! 
And hum a drowsy tune that thou mays't stay 
Love's feet, if he should pass along this way. 

O whispering wind ! beloved since long ago, 

Grant my desire, nor sigh, its end I know. 

One last caress, then leave me, friend, and blow, 

I pray ! 
So that thy subtly sweet suggestion sway 
Love's soul to seek this garden out today. 



UADRR THE CEDAR, OR LOVBS LURES. 77 

Now bend and hide me well, O cedar-tree ! 
Thou rose outside ! the hot sun glows on thee, 
Throw wide thy crimson doors for him to see, 

I pray ! 
That, as he stoop to kiss thee on his way, 
Unseen I touch Love's garment hem today ! 



